Martial Magic
by Kaida the Dragon Goddess
Summary: Yuugi and Ryou have been employed as teachers at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, which solves the problem of jobs. Of course, Keeping Bakura and Yami from destroying the school...that's a full-time job in itself. (Shounen-ai,Ryou-abuse)
1. Default Chapter

Alright, alright, alright. ducks the random objects being chucked at her I am very painfully aware that most crossovers suck. I mean, they're just BAD. And, here I am writing one ... I warn you, this one might be no better, but hey, I'm trying here. a shoe hits her on the head Dammit!  
  
So, this is a Harry Potter/ Yuugiou crossover fic, and I'm really trying to make it work, so some things must be assumed. Assume, of course, that Yuugi and Co. know of the wizarding world and vice versa. Assume that their Shadow –power-stuff is an ancient form of magic that closely parallels the contemporary magic, enough that Shadow-thingys can be taught. And then assume that the majority of the male Yuugiou characters are gay. No, seriously, there's some shounen-ai fluff in here, and there may be a lemon side story or two, depending on demand. coughchokeREVIEWcough  
  
Oh, and the characters are obviously grown up ... lessee, Yuugi's 23, which would make Yami ... eh, forget it. He's old. You know that. Everyone else in Yuugi's little group is also 23 (Seto, Jounouchi, Honda, Anzu, Otogi, Ryou, Malik) except Mai who's 31. Mokuba and Shizuka are both 18 (and, Mokuba's bi, just to warn you) and Marik and Bakura are their respective ancient ages. I don't feel like calculating.  
  
And of course, for those of you only familiar with the idiotic American version of Yuugiou, here's a nifty little guide to Japanese names. They are, of course, in the traditional surname-first format.  
  
Jonouchi Katsuya: Joey Wheeler. (now where the hell did they come up with that name?) Honda Hiroto: Tristan Taylor. (Damn Americans.) Mazaki Anzu: Tea Gardner. Motou Yuugi: Yugi Motou (sure, they keep HIS name the same ... ) Jonouchi Shizuka: Serenity Wheeler. (do I even need to say it?) Bakura Ryou: Bakura. In this story, Hikari no Bakura (that is, the light side of Bakura) will be referred to as "Ryou." Bakura/ Yami no Bakura: Yami Bakura Yami: Uh, Yami. Duh. Ryuiji Otogi: Duke Devlin. (Did some American person just pick random names out of a hat?) Ishtar Malik: Marik Ishtar (see, now this mistake is understandable, since "r' and 'l' are interchangeable in Japanese) Marik/Yami no Malik: Yami Marik Kaiba Seto: Seto Kaiba Kaiba Mokuba: Mokuba Kaiba  
  
All Japanese words, phrases and expletives are followed by their English meaning.  
  
Yami to HikariHikari to Yami/  
  
Chapter One: Farewell  
  
Ai, Yuugi,Yami sighed mentally, flopping down onto Yuugi's (and therefore his own) (A/N: Heh ... ) bed. Are you sure about this? I mean, you don't know these people--  
  
"I don't have to," Yuugi replied, shoving a heavy pair of Yami's gold wristbands into his trunk. "I need a job—besides, since when does magic make you uneasy, Mr. King of Shadow Games?"  
  
It's not that,Yami grumbled. I just—I don't know if it's such a good idea to leave Malik alone with Marik. Marik's ... homicidal tendencies are just barely sealed.  
  
/Ah, but they ARE sealed. Marik won't hurt Malik. Stop being such a worrywart,/ Yuugi chided his other half, lightly chucking a pillow at the ex-pharaoh.  
  
"I'm not," Yami said out loud. "It's not Malik I'm worried about, it's the rest of the world."  
  
Yuugi finally wrested his trunk closed with an exasperated grunt. He gave it a sidelong look and a vengeful kick, popping the lid open again and stubbing his toe in the process. He yelped in pain and hopped about on his other foot. Yami huffed in mock-anger. Aibou, are you listening to me?(Aibou—partner, though I prefer to think of it more as soul-mate. Anyway, it's what Yami calls Yuugi.)  
  
"Yeeees," Yuugi moaned in exaggerated agony, pouting adorably. He sat in his yami's lap, staring innocently up at the taller man while wiggling enticingly, all but straddling Yami's hips. He began to bite a soft trail down Yami's neck, humming quietly and smiling to himself.  
  
Aaagh,Yami sighed. That's very distracting.  
  
/Who, me?/ Yuugi asked coyly.  
  
Yes, you,Yami murmured, sliding a hand under Yuugi's shirt.  
  
"Hey, Yuug'!" Yuugi gave a start and promptly fell off the bed, hitting the floor with a loud thud.  
  
"Ow!"  
  
Jounouchi opened the door. Actually, "opened" is much too mild a word, since the door bounced violently against the wall, its hinges protesting loudly. Jou reached out a hand to stop the door from hitting him. "Eh, sorry 'bout that," he said, examining the wall for damage. He winced when he saw the large, doorknob-shaped hole in the plaster. "I c'n fix dat."  
  
He glanced up at Yami sitting on the bed, a red trail of bite-marks blossoming on his throat and at Yuugi, lying on the floor where he'd fallen, face flushed in embarrassment, shirt hiked up over his stomach, Jou sweatdropped. "Oops."  
  
Yami reacted first, reaching out a hand to pull his hikari off the floor. "Daijoubou desu ka?" (are you alright?)  
  
"Daijoubou," Yuugi said, somewhat dazed. "Hai, daijoubou." (I'm alright. Yes, I'm alright.)  
  
"I didn't, ah, interrupt anything, did I?" Jou blushed.  
  
Yami, standing behind Yuugi, wrapped a protective arm around his hikari's hips and rested his chin on the shorter man's shoulder. "Yes, you did."  
  
Jou was blushing so furiously that Yuugi wondered for a moment if it was actually possible for people to spontaneously combust. "I—I'm sorry—"  
  
"Oh, it's not a problem," Yami said, tracing spirals on Yuugi's inner thigh and biting his ear gently. "Just get the door on the way out, will you?"  
  
Aibou, I didn't know people could turn that red,Yami remarked, amused.  
  
"Stop it," Yuugi laughed, slapping Yami away playfully. /You're so bad!/  
  
Oh, I can be,Yami purred.  
  
/How is it you can turn anything into sexual innuendo?/  
  
I'm very talented,Yami assured him, teasing the small of his back.  
  
/See, there you go again./  
  
Jou shuffled his feet uncomfortably. "Uh—Yuug—I just wanted to tell you everyone's here—"  
  
"Typical," a harsh voice with the barest hint of a British accent drawled. "It could he his last day on Earth and all the pharaoh would be concerned about is screwing his hikari."  
  
"Hello, Bakura," Yami said in a sugary-sweet tone that scared the hell out of Yuugi. "It'd be such a shame to have to kill you, just when you were going to have a nice, long vacation from me."  
  
Bakura snorted derisively. "As if you could." Ryou tugged at his sleeve.  
  
"I don't think—"  
  
Bakura turned a fierce crimson gaze on his hikari. "Excuse me?" he asked politely, voice laced with barely-concealed malice. "Did I ask you to think?"  
  
"G—gomen n—nasai, Bakura-sama," Ryou let go of his yami's arm, shrinking back in fear. (I—I'm very sorry, Bakura)  
  
"It's alright, ahou," (fool) Bakura said mildly, stroking Ryou's hair. Ryou relaxed slightly, and Bakura suddenly grabbed a handful of milky-white locks, jerking Ryou's head back violently, making the shorter man cry out in surprise and pain. "Don't do it again," he hissed malevolently, that old sadistic grin playing on his face, and Ryou knew he was enjoying embarrassing his hikari like this.  
  
"H-hai." (Y-yes)  
  
Jou, Yuugi and Yami were all pointedly staring into the distance, and Ryou felt the familiar stab of betrayal that he always did when his friends ignored Bakura's abusing him. Ryou laughed bitterly in his head, kicking at the walls of his soul-room as he did so. They had no idea, none at all ... Yuugi, with his loving yami, how could he know what it was like ... he couldn't, plain and simple. None of them could.  
  
"Ryou-kun?" Yuugi put a hand on his arm and Ryou flinched away automatically, returning to reality with a start. Yuugi bit his lip, heart wrenching at the way Ryou refused to meet his eyes.  
  
Aibou,Yami said, there's nothing you can do.  
  
/I can try./  
  
"Ryou-kun, are you alright?"  
  
"Of course," Ryou said smoothly, forcing a grin. He tweaked Yuugi's nose. "Don't worry so much."  
  
Yuugi smiled hesitantly, still concerned by the heavy sadness that surrounded his friend. "You'll tell me if something happens, won't you?"  
  
Ryou's smile faltered for a moment, but he recovered quickly and nodded. "Of course I will, Yuugi-kun ... or should I say Yuugi-sensei now?" he asked, with a faint hint of the old, happy Ryou-smile Yuugi had missed.  
  
Yuugi grinned. "I'm not a teacher yet—don't get all formal on me."  
  
Ryou laughed. "Wouldn't dream of it, sensei." (teacher)  
  
They continued their playful banter all the way down the stairs, and when thy reached the shop Yuugi was startled to see that so many people had come to see him off. He'd known Seto would come, since Jou was practically attached to him at the hip, and Anzu showing up was a given—though Yuugi wasn't sure how many more friendship speeches he could handle.  
  
But Honda and Otogi were a surprise. Honda had become rather distressed and angry when the hikaris had started getting "involved" with their respective yamis, and then when Seto asked Jou out ... Yuugi shivered. He never wanted to see anyone that upset again.  
  
Even more surprising was the fact that Otogi's fingers were intertwined with Honda's. Yuugi raised his eyebrows. "Honda?"  
  
The man in question grinned sheepishly. "Forgive me, Yuug?"  
  
Yuugi smiled. "Of course!"  
  
Mokuba was there too, and Yuugi was startled to see how much they boy had grown since he'd gone away to boarding school. Mokuba was nearly as tall as Seto now, and he'd recently cut his black hair so it just barely brushed his shoulders. Now that Mokuba was eighteen, it was easier to see the Kaiba family resemblance. He was a little thinner than Seto, a bit more effeminate to his brother's broad-shouldered masculinity. He hadn't adapted his brother's billowing-trenchcoat style, preferring a sort of neo- punk look instead. Clad in black bondage pants and a black fishnet shirt (without anything under it! XD) he was a sight to attract many an eye, male and female, which worked out quite well since Mokuba didn't really seem to have a sexual preference.  
  
They'd all grown up. It made Yuugi a bit nostalgic to think of all he'd been through with these people.  
  
Oh, they were all recognizable as the kids they'd once been. No one's personality had really changed; Jou was just as hyperactive as ever, Ryou just as quiet and reserved.  
  
Scratch that, Yuugi thought as his eyes fell on Marik and Malik. Marik spun the Sennen Rod lazily with one hand, toying with his hikari's earring with the other. Malik looked slightly bored and Marik gave Yuugi a cold glare.  
  
After the Battle City incident, a lot of relationships had changed. Yuugi had managed to become friends with Malik, and Yami had become sparring partners with Bakura and...strained acquaintances with Marik.  
  
Malik's hair was pulled into a ponytail, and he'd finally given up his purple midriff shirt and khaki pants (Ryou had introduced him to the mall) and he was wearing a very well-fitting sleeveless black shirt and jeans. He'd refused to relinquish his earrings and other adornments, however; they were reminders of his heritage, he claimed.  
  
Marik looked about the same; same cold lavender stare, same wild blonde hair. He'd changed his attire to some more befitting of his slightly maniacal personality. He'd adapted a sluttier strain of Mokuba's style. He'd pierced his eyebrow and gotten an ankh tattooed on his (and his hikari's) right shoulder. He wore tight black leather pants and a crimson shirt that fit him like a second skin. His lips were painted black to match the jagged black streak he'd dyed in his hair. A dangling chain was attached to the spiked dog collar around his neck, and Yuugi would dearly have loved to pull it had he not known Marik's tendencies to disembowel people for such minor infractions.  
  
Jou was happily scarfing down half a pizza, shaking his now-mid-back-length hair out of his eyes. Seto watched, aghast. "How can you eat that fast?" the CEO asked.  
  
"Opehn mouf, isher' food, schew," Jou replied cheerfully, snarfing another slice. Seto hit him on the head. (Open mouth, insert food, chew. Look, I speak Jounouchi-ese!)  
  
"That was a rhetorical question, puppy," he remarked. Jou glared at Otogi, who shrugged.  
  
"I apologized for that about seven years ago, didn't I?" he said defensively.  
  
"It's not funny," Jou snapped at a snickering Honda. "Bastard."  
  
Ryou smiled. "Mental, all of them."  
  
Yuugi agreed vehemently, though he knew better than to voice his opinion around Jou. He dragged his trunk toward the door where a taxi was waiting to take him to the airport. "I guess I'll be seeing you guys then ... "  
  
"Sooner than you'd think," Bakura muttered to Ryou, who gave him a warning glare.  
  
"We're coming to visit you, don't forget." Honda snatched a piece of pizza from the box in front of Jou, and the blonde growled at him, grabbing it back.  
  
"That's mine, baka," Jou said, resolutely chewing on the now-cold mass of cheese and dough. "Yeah, don't forget to write us and tell us when would be a good time."  
  
"You really don't have to—"Yuugi began, but was cut off by Malik.  
  
"You really think we're just going to leave you there? With complete strangers? No, we're going to make sure it's safe and they treat you well and all. You're our friend, after all."  
  
"Friendship—"  
  
"Anzu, shut up!" they all yelled. She huffed in anger and closed her mouth, but at least they'd warded off another friendship speech.  
  
Yuugi shook his head wearily. "I don't know if we'll have space for you all ... "  
  
"So we'll get a hotel room or something," Jou said. "Hell, Seto could probably buy—"  
  
"No, Seto could not," the eldest Kaiba snapped. "Stop volunteering me."  
  
Jou looked mildly hurt.  
  
Two weeks later, Diagon Alley, London, England  
  
Che,Yami swore. (Shit.)  
  
Yuugi sighed. /What now, Yami?/  
  
Look at this place!Yami thought fiercely. Crawling with Shadow magic!He shoved his hands into his pockets, shoulders hunched underneath black robes. He'd pulled the hood up over his face, since people generally were a bit suspicious of the two nearly-identical men.  
  
/What do you mean?/ Yuugi wiped a sleeve across his brow. He wasn't feeling well—the beginnings of a truly magnificent headache were pounding behind his eyes.  
  
You're feeling it too,Yami said sympathetically, sliding an arm around his hikari's shoulders. Poor Yuugi, he wasn't practiced at guarding against foreign magics ... even Yami was feeling a bit ill. Do you feel sick?  
  
/Yeah ... kinda ... / Yuugi leaned into Yami's embrace. /Don't ... feel ... good ... / Yuugi collapsed.  
  
"Kusou!" (Damn it!) Yami swore loudly, causing the people around him to cast venomous stares at him. Wizards didn't take well to Muggle-looking people, especially Muggle foreigners who didn't speak proper English.  
  
Yami eased Yuugi to the ground, glancing around desperately for someone who could help.  
  
"Oi!" (Hey!) He grabbed the hem of a boy's deep green robes. "Onegai—"he pleaded, gesturing to Yuugi. (Please--)  
  
"Get your filthy hands off me, Muggle," the pale, silver-blonde boy snapped. He jerked his robes out of Yami's grip. "And speak English!"  
  
Yami gritted his teeth. How dare this whelp speak to him like that ... he was starting to understand Bakura's habit of banishing people to the Shadow Realm.  
  
"Sorry ... could you please tell me where I can find a doctor?" Yami said politely. The pale boy sneered.  
  
"God, you really are Muggles. We don't have doctors here, idiot. Go bother someone else." He stalked off, aristocratic arrogance oozing from every pore.  
  
"Bastard!" Yami snarled, cradling the unconscious Yuugi in his arms.  
  
"Hermione?" Ron paused to look back at the bushy-haired girl. "Hey, Hermione, what's wrong?"  
  
Hermione was standing stock–still, staring into a side street, her fists clenched at her sides. Ron and Harry trotted over to see what was the matter when Draco Malfoy brushed by them and swaggered off.  
  
A man was glaring after Malfoy, his eyes glimmering from inside his cowl. Harry couldn't quite place what was amiss with the man's stare, but something wasn't right.  
  
"I see you've met Malfoy. Can we help?" Hermione asked, and Harry realized that the man was clutching a smaller, unconscious form sprawled in the street.  
  
"Yes, please," the man said, giving them each a grateful look in turn. Harry started suddenly as he stared into the man's violet eyes. "He...he just collapsed ... " He turned his gaze back to the body in his arms, which Harry could now see was a thin, short boy with bizarre multicolored hair.  
  
Hermione clucked sympathetically. "I'd help him, but, well, you know, the Decree for the Restriction of Underage Magic and all ... "  
  
"Sure," the hooded man agreed, and it was clear he had no idea what Hermione had just said.  
  
"Here," she said, oblivious. "Harry, Ron, help us pick him up—we'll take him to the Leaky Cauldron, maybe they've got a spare room he can lay down in."  
  
"Hey," Ron said suddenly. "You're Muggles, aren't you?"  
  
"Now's not the time, Ron!" Hermione snapped.  
  
Between the four of them, they managed to carry the unconscious boy nearly the length of Diagon Alley to the Leaky Cauldron. The shade seemed to do him good; he was coming around slowly.  
  
"Thank you for your help," the hooded man said. "My name is Yami, and this is Yuugi."  
  
"I'm Hermione, that's Ron, and he's Harry."  
  
Yami bowed politely to each of them, drawing back his hood. Ron stared.  
  
"Hey, has anyone told you two that you look alike?"  
  
"Yes," Yami said, smiling at the boy. "He ... I ... oh, Ra, how do I explain this..."  
  
Yami was saved the trouble of answering when Yuugi gave a feeble cough and tried to sit up. Yami handed him the glass bottle the sour-looking witch behind the bar had given him.  
  
"Here, aibou," Yami said gently, brushing the hair out of Yuugi's face with surprising tenderness. Yuugi smiled shakily.  
  
"Domo arigatou, Yami," (Thank you very much, Yami) he said, taking a sip—and very promptly spitting it back out, coughing violently. "Che!"  
  
"Yeah, firewhiskey'll do that to you," Ron said, grinning. "Don't see why they'd let you drink it, seeing as how you're underage—"  
  
"Excuse me," Yuugi said waspishly. "I'm twenty-three, and I am most definitely overage."  
  
Yuugi hadn't grown much in the past seven years; he'd only reached about 5'4". His hair had grown a bit longer and he'd pulled it back into a short ponytail. His eyes still glimmered with that honesty and trust Bakura found so revolting, but they'd gained an awareness, a sharpness around the edges that would make anyone think twice about underestimating him. He was still thin, nearly delicate, but a hint of muscle rippled beneath skin bronzed from the months he'd spent in the Egyptian deserts with Malik and Ryou. It was easy to see how Ron had mistaken them for Muggles (they weren't, even if they didn't do the type of magic Hogwarts students did). Their clothes reminded Harry of Bill's; they'd have blended in well at a rock concert. Both Yami and Yuugi were clad in black leather, although Yami's outfit had a number of silver buckles and chains adorning it and Yuugi's shirt was shorter than Yami's, cut to expose a tanned, muscular stomach. They both wore quite a bit of jewelry in the Egyptian style: armbands emblazoned with the Eye of Horus, rings and charms bearing the images of Egyptian deities, and a tiny ankh even dangled from Yami's right earlobe.  
  
They resembled nothing so much as Muggle punks with an affinity for gold.  
  
"Twenty-three?" Ron asked incredulously. "No way!" He stared shrewdly at Yami. "Well, maybe if you're twins ... how old're you?"  
  
Yami blinked. "Uh ... Five thousand and—"Yuugi clapped a hand over his mouth.  
  
Ron, Harry and Hermione were staring blankly at him, mouths slightly agape.  
  
"Uh ... well ... "Yuugi stammered.  
  
"Thank you for your help," Yami said smoothly, getting to his feet and bowing to them, jerking Yuugi up as well. "We really should be going."  
  
"Oh," Hermione said, looking startled. "All right then." 


	2. Chapter Two

Chapter Two  
  
Three weeks later, Hogwarts Castle  
  
"They've done what?" Harry asked, shaking the water fom his hair. It was pouring outside, the rain lashing at the windowpanes in a fury, and the students huddled together in the hall, dripping dismally and conversing among themselves.  
  
"They've moved the feast to tomorrow." Hermione looked rather upset at this, and her stomach growled loudly.  
  
"Why? Has anyone said?"  
  
"No," Hermione said. "We're to go to our common rooms and eat there."  
  
They couldn't remember a time that the welcoming feast had been postponed, and it was logical that everyone was worried. They'd seen a processional of Ministry of Magic employees file into the castle earlier, with the round Minister clutching his bowler hat in an attempt to keep it fom escaping in the storm.  
  
"Come on now, everyone leave your trunks here, get a move on!" Professor McGonagall, head of Gryffindor House snapped. "You'll get your feast tomorrow!"  
  
"Professor," Hermione said. "What's happening?"  
  
"Ministry of Magic," McGonagall said wearily. "They're still trying to evict Dumbledore—Mister Malfoy, if you so much as lay a wand on Longbottom-- !"  
  
And she stalked off.  
  
"Evict Dumbledore?" Ron said shakily. "D'you reckon it's got anything to do with--?"  
  
"Yeah," Harry muttered. "They still won't accept that Voldemort's back."  
  
"Idiots," Hermione began when the doors to the great hall slammed open and the Ministry employees they'd seen earlier stormed out, trying to look dignified even though Fudge fairly burned with anger at the head of the line.  
  
"A pleasure as always," Dumbledore said from his seat in the hall. "Everyone, do come in. I apologize for the delay—"  
  
The rest of his apology was drowned out by the resounding cheer; everyone was hungry.  
  
"So," Ron said, through a mouthful of food, "Who d'you reckon is our DADA teacher?"  
  
"Dunno," Harry said, swallowing a bit of steak. "I'm hoping not another crazed maniac."  
  
Hermione cast a glance up at the staff table, noting that the DADA seat was empty. "Whoever it is, they're not here yet."  
  
"Who's that bloke?" Seamus Finnigan poked Harry with his fork and gestured to what Harry had taken for a sodden, discarded cloak thrown on the table. Upon closer inspection, it appeared to be a person in black robes, asleep with his head on the table.  
  
"I dunno—"Harry broke off as another, shorter man sat down in the chair next to the lump. "Hey! Ron, Hermione, look who it is!"  
  
"Blimey," Ron said. "Isn't that Yuugi?"  
  
Yuugi had spotted them as well, and waved cheerily, prodding the lump next to him. Yami said up, yawning, and pushed back his hood. When he saw who Yuugi was gesturing to, he gave them an adknowledging nod and went back to sleep.  
  
"Ooh, you know him?" Pavarti Patil squealed happily. "He's adorable!"  
  
"Who? Yami?" Ron looked nauseated.  
  
"Students, Romans, countrymen and women, and anyone else who wants to listen," Dumbledore began, "welcome to another year at Hogwarts."  
  
Fred and George began singing the school song loudly, and Dumbledore smiled at them before continuing.  
  
"There are some new faces here at the staff table, if you'll notice. Allow me to introduce Professors Yuugi Motou and Yami. They're from Japan, and Yami wishes me to remind you that they do understand English perfectly."  
  
Yuugi kicked Yami in the shin. They both stood up, Yami glaring slightly at Yuugi.  
  
"They'll be teaching Martial Magic to fifth years and above, seeing as our previous Martial Magic teacher has retired to a more peaceful has it that he's moved to America." There was an appreciative amount of laughter at this.  
  
"What's Martial Magic?" Harry asked.  
  
"Fighting magic," Hermione said, frowning slightly. "But...I don't sense any magical ability from Professor Motou..."  
  
"And of course, the ever-changing Defense Against the Dark Arts position ..." Dumbledore glanced at the still-empty seat. "Apparently your new teacher hasn't arrived yet ... "  
  
The door slammed open and every head in the Hall swivled to look at the figures sihlouetted in the doorway.  
  
"Sorry ... we're ... late ... Professor ... "  
  
Yuugi sat up straight. "Ryou-kun?"  
  
Ryou grinned at Yuugi. "Aa! Oi, Yuugi-kun!" (Yeah! Hey, Yuugi!)  
  
Bakura gave the pharaoh an adknowledging sneer. Ryou, however, overjoyed at seeing a familiar face after two days with Bakura on an airplane, bounded up the stairs leading to the staff table and flung himself at Yuugi, hugging both him and Yami, babbling the whole time in Japanese.  
  
Dumbledore looked somewhat amused, and everyone else in the room was staring blankly at them, save for Snape, who was glaring venemously at the child who'd beaten him to the Defense Against the Dark Arts position.  
  
"Ah ... Professors Bakura and Motou?" Dumbledore said mildly. "Pardon the interruption, but I'm afraid we're quite unable to understand you."  
  
"Oh, of course," Ryou said in deliberately accented English, bowing to the headmaster. "My apologies."  
  
"Ooh, he's even cuter than the last one!" Lavender Brown giggled.  
  
Ron shook his head at her. "There's four of them, genius."  
  
"Oh, but the taller one with the different coloured hair—"  
  
"Yami," Harry supplied.  
  
"—is so much more handsome than the short one!"  
  
"He is not! Pavarati argued. "Professor Motou's adorable!"  
  
"No, the short white-haired one's cuter!"  
  
"I rather like the tall, white-haired one," George interrupted in a falsetto tone, elicting laughter from the Gryffindors not oohing and aahing over their new professors.  
  
"Students, these are Professors Ryou Bakura and ... ah ... Bakura?" Dumbledore said.  
  
"Call me Ryou, please. He's Bakura." The hikari smiled, and the girls in the room squealed. Ryou didn't bat an eye; he was used to fangirls, European or Japanese.  
  
They're looking at you, hikari,Bakura grumbled unhappily.  
  
/They're just girls./  
  
If they touch you, I'll kill them.  
  
"Professors Ryou and Bakura," Dumbledore corrected.  
  
"Why do you look the same?" a first-year Hufflepuff spoke up.  
  
Fred and George exchanged incredulous looks. "Bloody idiot," George said. "Six years here, and it still hasn't sunk in!"  
  
"Yeah, are you twins?" Lee Jordan asked.  
  
"Well ... no," Yuugi said. "Actually, none of us are related."  
  
This statement was followed with dead silence. Even Dumbledore sat down and motioned for them to continue.  
  
"Wonderful, Yuugi," Bakura snarled. "How are you going to explain this one?"  
  
"They're ancient Egyptian spirits. They preserved their souls in these," he motioned to his Puzzle and Ryou's Ring, "and we sort of ... I dunno ... set them free?"  
  
"They don't believe us," Ryou said.  
  
"Ancient Egyptian spirits?" Draco Malfoy laughed. "You're delusional, the lot of you."  
  
Bakura tensed, gritting his teeth. "Oh, please," he hissed to Ryou, who had a death grip on his yami's arm. "Five minutes in the Shadow Realm and that bastard would be begging for your forgiveness."  
  
"No. Banishing. People. To. The. Shadow. Realm." Ryou said firmly. Bakura's eyes narrowed at being ordered about by his hikari, but he made no move towards Malfoy.  
  
"I can assure you, Mr. Malfoy, that your new professors are far from delusional. Bakura and Yami are indeed Egyptian spirits. Yami was actually Pharaoh Atem, I believe?" Yami nodded modestly.  
  
Yuugi had been expecting more blank stares, but a murmer began to worm its way around the hall, most of the students nodding as they heard the name. "Wait, they know who that is?" Yuugi asked.  
  
"Well, of course they do," Professor Binns spoke up. "At least, they should if they paid attention in my class."  
  
"Oh, good," Yuugi heard Ron say brightly. "That explains why I've never heard of him."  
  
"So what are you?" Malfoy asked Bakura.  
  
"Not very fond of nosy children," Bakura snapped. The Gryffindors all laughed as Malfoy's pale cheeks pinkened somewhat.  
  
"He was a tomb robber," Ryou answered, giving Bakura a Look.  
  
"Of course!" Hermione said excitedly. "The King of Thieves Bakura, who sold his soul to Zoru Necopheriadasu, the previous resident of the Sennen Ring! Atem sacrificed himself to destroy Bakura, with the end result that they were both bonded to the Sennen Ring and Puzzle, sealed away until the Items were discovered!"  
  
"Someone's done her homework," Yuugi said, looking impressed.  
  
"Thank you, Miss Granger, for that lovely history lesson."  
  
"I didn't sell him my soul, he took it," Bakura growled.  
  
"You have any idea what she just said?" Ron asked.  
  
"Nope," Harry replied.  
  
"Oh, honestly," Hermione said. "You two are so dense!"  
  
"This is ... charming," Yuugi said, looking around his new room, trying not to laugh.  
  
It was furnished in a very traditional Japanese style, complete with tatami mats covering the floor, walls made of paper screens, and two plush-looking futons laid out on the floor. A small table in the corner sat low to the floor, with a few cushions surrounding it. Yuugi slid open one of the doors to find a small flower garden shadowed by a half-grown sakura tree. Although Yuugi was sure that it wasn't the right time of year, it was in full bloom, and as he stood staring up at it a pink-veined petal drifted onto his hair. Yami plucked it off of his head, twirling it between his fingers.  
  
"Professor Motou does not like?"  
  
"Oh, no, it's not that. I just—"Yuugi laughed. "What did you say your name was again?"  
  
"Dobby, sir." The weird-looking bat-eared creature bowed.  
  
"No, Dobby, I like it. I really do."  
  
"Through that door, sirs, is Pharaoh Atem's room."  
  
Yami blinked. "We've got separate rooms?"  
  
"Yes, Pharaoh Atem."  
  
Yami shuddered. "Call me Yami, please. I'm not royalty anymore."  
  
"Pharaoh Yami is too kind."  
  
Yami sighed.  
  
"Hey, Yami, your room is pretty cool."  
  
Yuugi had opened the door, revealing a room with a high-arched ceiling, supported by fluted columns in the ancient Egyptian style. Hiroglyphics and paintings covered the walls, and the bed was hung with gold cloth. Yami arched an eyebrow. "You know, I never had my own pyramid ... this is kind of nice."  
  
"Okay, that's morbid," Yuugi said, closing the door. "You want a pyramid now?"  
  
Yami shrugged. "Egyptians spend their lives preparing for the afterlife. It's not morbid to them."  
  
"Yeah, but I'm just a modest Japanese schoolteacher," Yuugi said, shivering at the thought of his yami's corpse entombed in a pyramid, all alone for eternity. "And it kind of creeps me out."  
  
Yami slid an arm around Yuugi's waist. "No more talk of death," he said, smiling down at his lighter half. "I promise."  
  
"Will sirs be needing anything else?" Dobby shifted from foot to foot, looking extremely uncomfortable. Yuugi cleared his throat and Yami stepped away, the barest hint of a blush blooming on his cheeks.  
  
"No, Dobby, thank you." Yuugi bowed respectfully to the house-elf. "You've been a great help."  
  
Dobby looked even more alarmed at Yuugi's polite response. "Dobby must go, sirs!" he cried, fleeing the room.  
  
Yuugi arched an eyebrow in an unconscious imitation of his Yami. "Did I do something wrong?"  
  
"No, sir, it's just the way house-elves are."  
  
Yuugi jumped, whirling to face the doorway. "Oh, Harry, isn't it?"  
  
"Yes, sir," the black-haired boy said, smiling. "Professor Dumbledore wanted me to give you this. It's your schedule, I think."  
  
Yuugi took the parchment and scanned it quickly. "What do these colours mean?"  
  
"They're to tell you what House you're teaching at what time."  
  
"Which is which?"  
  
"Red's Gryffindor—that's my House, sir—green's Slytherin, yellow's Hufflepuff, and blue's Ravenclaw."  
  
"I see," Yuugi lied. What was a House? He was completely unused to European schools, having been born and raised in Japan.  
  
"Can I ask you something, sir?"  
  
Yuugi smiled at the boy. "Please, call me Yuugi. 'Sir' makes me nervous."  
  
Harry grinned at him. Finally, a teacher he might actually like. "Do you know Professor Ryou?"  
  
"Yes, we've been friends for many years."  
  
"And Professor Bakura ... he's actually the King of Thieves?"  
  
Yami snorted. "Of course he is. Five thousand years, and he still annoys the hell out of me."  
  
"Harry, I need you to do me a favour," Yuugi said, grasping the boy's shoulder."  
  
"What is it, si—Yuugi?"  
  
"I'm going to be very busy with classes, it seems, and I need you to keep an eye on Professor Ryou."  
  
"What do you mean, sir?" Yuugi didn't bother to correct him.  
  
"Any bruises, cuts, unexplained abscenses, or Bakura causing a—er, scene, I need you to find me immediately and report it. Is that clear?"  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
"Yuugi."  
  
"Yes, Yuugi."  
  
"Good." Yuugi smiled. "I'll see you Thursday, then."  
  
Aibou, you're meddling again.  
  
/I'm just trying to help Ryou./  
  
I doubt Bakura's going to appreciate that.  
  
/I don't care./  
  
"Where is he?"  
  
"Has anyone seen him today?"  
  
"He wasn't at breakfast—"  
  
"—Or lunch—"  
  
"I'm sure he'll be here," Hermione said loudly, thought she was getting a bit worried. "He will, won't he? I mean, to miss his first lesson—"  
  
Harry exchanged a smirking glance with Ron; they both knew that Hermione considered missing a lesson a crime punishable by death.  
  
"Dammit, ahou!"  
  
The class collectively turned in the direction of the thudding footsteps and the booming voice. "I have class to teach," a voice said quietly.  
  
"That doesn't mean I have to go with you."  
  
"I didn't ask you to. Let go, that hurts." The softer voice sounded scared. "Please let go of me."  
  
"How else am I to keep you from running away from me again?"  
  
"I wasn't—oww! Bakura!"  
  
A loud slap resounded, echoing in the near-empty halls. "What?"  
  
"B—Bakura-sama—gomen nasai gozaimasu—"  
  
"Professor Ryou?" Hermione asked, taking a step forward.  
  
"Hello," Ryou said, managing an awkward smile. Bakura had a death grip on his snowy locks and was dragging him along, jerking them every so often. "Bakura, will you let go! I have to teach!"  
  
Bakura complied, though he did so with a bitter glare and some select four- letter words. "I'm sorry I'm late," Ryou said smilingly. "I'll try to compress today's lesson so that you won't be late for dinner."  
  
"Professor Ryou," Harry said quietly as Ryou unlocked the classroom door and let them all inside. "What happened to you?"  
  
Ryou blinked at him. "Nani?"  
  
"You look awful, if you don't mind my saying so, sir."  
  
"Of course not," Ryou said, gingerly prodding his swollen eye. "I'm afraid I'm rather clumsy—I walked into my own wardrobe."  
  
Harry narrowed a skeptical eye at his professor, but chose not to comment. He filed into the classroom after Ron. "Good evening, class," Ryou said, taking his place behind the desk. "Wands away, if you would?"  
  
The class exchanged horrified glances: surely this soft-spoken Japanese man wasn't another Umbridge? "Relax, I'd jut like to take this first lesson to get to know a bit about all of you."  
  
Bakura mumbled something in Japanese, pulled a wicked-looking dagger from the inside of his cloak, and began to toss it in the air and catch it. Pavarti Patil, who had the seat next to the antisocial yami, flinched every time the dagger arced downward, clearly afraid that it would hit her.  
  
"Why doesn't Professor Ryou tell him to stop it?" Hermione whispered.  
  
"It seems to me like Professor Ryou doesn't tell Professor Bakura to do anything," Harry said. "Did you see that black eye?"  
  
Hermione gasped. "You don't think Professor Bakura did that?"  
  
Harry shrugged. "Don't you?"  
  
"Is there a problem?" Harry jumped and Hermione screamed. Bakura's face had suddenly appeared not three inches from theirs, startling both of them.  
  
"N—no, sir," Hermione stammered. Bakura snorted.  
  
"It's none of your business how I treat my hikari—"Bakura began, but was cut off by Ryou.  
  
"Bakura. Could I see you outside for a moment?" Ryou grabbed his yami's sleeve and pulled him out into the hallway. The class buzzed for a few seconds before they realized that they could clearly hear the conversation.  
  
"—and terrorizing students hardly makes a good first impression, Bakura- sama."  
  
"I am not terrorizing them, ahou," Bakura snapped. Harry and Ron turned to Hermione for the definition of the unfamiliar word.  
  
"Fool," she whispered.  
  
"It's none of their business."  
  
"Yes, well, perhaps they're right. I can't teach them properly if I'm constantly worrying about you."  
  
"Worrying about—"Bakura laughed. "All you have to worry about, hikari, is staying the hell out of my way."  
  
"If anything goes missing—"  
  
"I'm a tomb robber, you idiot. I steal things. It's a cute little hobby of mine."  
  
"I'm going to go check on them," Harry whispered, pulling the shimmering folds of his Invisibility Cloak from his bag. "Professor Yuugi asked me to watch out for Professor Ryou."  
  
"Be careful," Hermione advised. "Professor Bakura doesn't seem to be the most sane person in the world."  
  
Harry grinned and disappeared under the Cloak.  
  
"Look, Bakura, I need this job, and I am NOT letting you screw it up for me!"  
  
Bakura growled and slammed Ryou's head into the wall. "You picked a wonderful time to grow a backbone, hikari!" Another slam. "You don't tell me what to do! You can't control me!"  
  
Harry watched, aghast, unsure of whether or not to intervene.  
  
"Shouldn't it work the same way for me?" Ryou spat.  
  
Bakura roared an expletive in Japanese and hurled Ryou across the hall with a strength that Harry never would have guessed he had concealed in his lithe body. "How dare you talk that way to me!"  
  
Harry winced when he heard Ryou hit the wall with a loud crack. "Professor!" he cried, running toward the wounded man. He forgot about staying hidden forgot about Professor Bakura's temper, forgot about how much trouble he could get in for spying on teachers. All he could see was Ryou's broken body and the blood pooling around his head.  
  
Ryou half-opened bleary eyes. "Potter?"  
  
"Professor, are you—I'll get Madame Pomfrey—"  
  
"No!" Ryou gripped his arm tight, his eyes suddenly alight with panic. "No, I'll be—"  
  
"Professor?" Harry shook him. "Professor?"  
  
"He's unconscious, you idiot."  
  
Harry gulped and glanced up into angry crimson eyes. 


	3. Chapter Three

Chapter Three

Thank you to all my wonderful reviewers! I love you guys, I really do! Reviews are an author's lifeblood, bear that in mind. I've said it before and I'll say it again: Authors reviews happy authors. Happy authors more updates and less wallowing in artistic angst.

Oh, and here's what's up with my reviews. For every ten reviews I get, I'll draw one picture for a reviewer picked at random. The picture will be their request, although it'd be nice if it was something from the story. Keep requests PG-13, 'k? Just leave your email address in your review, and I'll contact you if you've won!

"P-Professor Bakura," Harry stammered.

"And you're the Potter runt, aren't you?"

Runt? Harry bristled. He wasn't that short. "Yeah. The Potter runt."

"Would you care to explain to me, Potter, why you're not in the classroom with the rest of the vermin?"

"Professor Ryou was—I mean, I was—I wanted to make sure he was alright." Even to Harry the excuse sounded lame; it certainly didn't explain why he'd appeared out of thin air.

"He's still breathing, isn't he?" Bakura snapped. "He'll be fine."

"Sir, he really didn't—why did you do that?"

Bakura arched a fine white eyebrow at him. "Do what?"

Harry glanced down at Ryou's unconscious body. "Hurt him."

Bakura picked Ryou up, glaring disdainfully down at his hikari's prone body. "I don't see how that's any of your business."

"He didn't do anything wrong," Harry protested. He got to his feet, thoroughly aware that Bakura could break his spine if he really wanted to. Rather than angry, however, the yami looked—amused? "Why did you do that to him?"

Bakura shrugged. "It's of no concern to you." He sighed. "But I suppose your class still needs a teacher, so—" he handed Ryou to Harry. Harry took him gingerly, afraid that he wouldn't be able to hold him up. To his surprise, Ryou's body was light, almost as if his bones were hollow. Or, Harry thought, feeling Ryou's ribs pressing into his arms, perhaps he didn't eat enough.

"Take him to our rooms," Bakura ordered. "They're above the Slytherin dungeons."

"What?"

"He needs rest, and I don't think sleeping in this hallway is very safe, especially after the bell rings."

"But—he—you—"

Bakura's sharp crimson eyes narrowed. "Just because I beat him I'm not allowed to be concerned?"

"It's not that—"

"Just take him to his room. As quickly as possible. And get your ass back here for lessons."

"But—"

Bakura glared. "But what?"

"Nothing sir."

"Oh, and Potter?" Harry stopped and half-turned to face Bakura.

"Sir?"

"If you so much a breathe a word of this to anyone, you'll spend the rest of your life in a hospital, understand me?"

"Yes, sir."

"Yuugi! Yami!" Harry rammed his shoulder into the door, arms full of unconscious Ryou.

"Damn it!" That was Yami, he was sure of that. What was wrong?

He heard footsteps pounding towards the door and exasperated muttering. "What the hell do you want?" Yami swung the door open and Harry stared.

Dead silence as Harry took in Yami's bare chest, half-unbuttoned jeans, and the red bite-mark blossoming on his collarbone. At least Yami had the decency to blush.

"Harry?" Yuugi poked his head around Yami's frozen shoulder. "What's the matter?" Yuugi was even worse off than Yami, clad only in dark blue boxers and his jewelry, but he seemed completely unabashed.

Oh, no. Harry did NOT want to think about what they were doing in here. No thoughts. Nope. Not about why they would answer the door half-naked, not about why they were half-naked in the first place, and certainly not about the hickey on Yami's chest. Pure thoughts. Innocent thoughts. Happy thoughts.

"Umm—"Harry could feel his cheeks blazing red. "Er—"

Yuugi shook Yami gently. "Yami, let him in. Ryou looks like he's in bad shape."

Wordlessly, Yami stepped aside, the shock just beginning to wear off. "Thank you," Harry muttered, deliberately avoiding the ex-pharaoh's eyes.

"You can set him down in here," Yuugi said, opening the door to his room. "He won't fall off a futon."

After Harry had settled Ryou on Yuugi's spare futon, he joined the two in Yami's room, and was immediately relieved to see that they had both put some clothing on.

"I'm sorry—" Harry began, but Yuugi waved a dismissive hand at him.

"Don't worry about it. I'm sorry if we scarred you for life."

Harry blushed. "No, not at all."

"Liar."

Harry gave Yuugi a sheepish grin. "Maybe."

"Look," Yami said, "maybe we can keep this quiet? I mean, I don't think it would go over too well if the entire school knew we were—"

"Gay?" Harry supplied, the blushed when he realized what he'd said. "I didn't mean—"

"It's okay," Yuugi laughed. "We are. No use denying it now, hm?" He winked roguishly at Harry.

Yami sighed. "Guess not."

Yuugi gave him a mock-pout. "Are you ashamed of me, mou hitori no boku?" (My other self, literally. This is what Yuugi calls Yami in the series until he realizes that Yami is an ancient pharaoh)

"No, of course not, koi." (Not the fish. 'Koi' is short for 'koibito'—boyfriend.)

"But—"Yuugi began, waiting for Yami to complete his thought.

"But I don't think people here are as accepting as in Japan."

"Is Bakura—"Harry began. "Are he and Ryou?"

"I don't know. Are they?" Yuugi glanced at Yami, giving him what appeared to be a thumbs-up. Harry blinked in confusion.

"Are they... ?" Yami copied Yuugi's gesture and glanced down at his own hand. "Oh," he said suddenly, understanding. "I don't think so."

(A/N: In Japan, extending the thumb means you're talking about someone's boyfriend, and extending the pinky means you're talking about someone's girlfriend.)

"Hunh?" Harry turned to Yuugi for an explanation.

"They're not lovers."

Harry blushed. "Oh."

"Uhhn ... "

Yuugi's head snapped around. "Ryou! You shouldn't be up!"

Ryou was leaning against the doorway, bent over in pain. "Oww ... I'm fine, really, Yuugi-kun." He took a step forward and winced. "Harry, what are you doing here?"

"I brought you here, Professor. Professor Bakura told me to take you to your chambers, but I thought—"

"No, I mean why aren't you in class? I remember Bakura telling you to come back as soon as possible."

"I wanted to make sure you were alright."

Ryou managed a weak smile. "Well, as you can see, I'm fine. You should get back to—" The bell rang. "—class," Ryou finished lamely.

"Bullshit," Yami snapped. "You're not fine, Ryou. You're half-dead, and you're going to go lay back down. Yuugi can sleep in here with me tonight."

Yuugi's faint blush told Harry that the small professor had been planning that all along.

"No. I—rrgh," he groaned as he tried to straighten his spine. "I'm alright. I should get back to Bakura. He'll be upset when he can't find me."

"Why would you want to go back?" Harry burst out. "I saw what he did to you! Sir!" he added, almost as an afterthought. "Why—I mean, I know it's not my place, but—"

"I owe him my life," Ryou answered simply, one hand on the wall for support as he limped towards the door. "I'm sorry for inconveniencing you, Yuugi," he apologized, half-turning to look at him.

And with that, he was gone.

"I'm worried about him," Yuugi said, shaking his multicoloured head. "He's getting worse."

"What do you mean?" Harry asked. "He's getting worse?"

"Ryou—has problems," Yuugi explained. "He's been on his own since he was very young. His mother and sister were killed in a car accident, and his father was never in the country, much less at home. He never had any friends, he was always alone. Depressed. Very, very depressed.

"Bakura was a dream come true for him. Someone who could never leave him, whose very existence depended on his survival. For the first time in his life he was needed, wanted, protected. And that's when things started going downhill.

"Bakura was always touchy. Crazy. Tried to kill Yami more times than I can count. But he started getting attached to Ryou in his own way, and, well—Bakura's not great with emotions."

"Never has been," Yami interjected. "He had a rough growing-up as well, and he thinks he's toughening Ryou. Preparing him for the real world. He doesn't want Ryou making the same mistakes he did."

"That makes sense, I guess," Harry said slowly. "But doesn't he realize what he's doing?" Harry could scarcely imagine someone as kind and gentle as Ryou becoming like Bakura. He shuddered to think of it. "Doesn't he care?"

"He does. That's the problem."

Ron and Hermione were oddly quiet at dinner. Harry waved a hand in Ron's face and the redhead snapped to attention, knocking over his pumpkin juice in the process. "Hunh?"

"What happened to you two?"

"Bakura," they answered simultaneously.

"That's Professor Bakura to you two," a sickeningly sweet voice chirped and Ron recoiled in horror as the former tomb robber strode by the Gryffindor table.

"Yessir!"

"What did he do?"

"Tell me, Harry," Hermione said, still looking vaguely traumatized, "have you ever heard of a place called the Graveyard?"

"Er—no, I don't think so. Sounds like a club."

"It's not," Ron said faintly. "Poor Neville, looked like he was going to have a heart attack ... " Harry glanced over to a pale, shaking Neville, who seemed to be having trouble managing his fork. "But _God_, that was awful ... "


End file.
